


And the Living is Easy

by rivers_bend



Series: Broadway, Porn, and Rock and Roll [1]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Music RPF, Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M, Porn Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-06
Updated: 2011-04-06
Packaged: 2017-10-17 16:50:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/178946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivers_bend/pseuds/rivers_bend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here Adam is, living his dream in New York City, a lead in a show on Broadway, not only paying his rent but putting money in the bank, and he's considering doing porn just for fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And the Living is Easy

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Gerard Way, Porn Star ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/144740) by [mistresscurvy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistresscurvy/pseuds/mistresscurvy). 



> The Obvious: I do not know any of the people whose names or public personas are used in this story, and neither believe nor mean to imply this actually happened.

Living in LA, Adam had come close more times than he likes to think about to doing porn so he could pay the rent. One time he even had his phone in one hand and the number he got from a friend of a friend in the other. But at the last minute a paying gig always came through, keeping the wolves from the door for another week or another month, and he never had to make the call. And now here he is, living his dream in New York City, a lead in a show on Broadway, not only paying his rent but putting money in the bank, and he's considering doing it just for fun. (Okay, and for the Maldives, because to do that shit right it's a thousand dollars a day, and he's not exactly Daniel Radcliffe here.)

Even with the desire to show his boyfriend a good time in the tropics, Adam would never be considering a sideline in the porn industry if he were stuck with the studios in LA. But there's this crew in Jersey one of his costars did some work with, and the show's sound guy used to work with one of the Jersey guys' camera crew, and Adam's seen their product, and it's good stuff. Great stuff. Stuff he wouldn't even be embarrassed for his mom to see, if she weren't, you know, his _mom_. Plus, Lucien said they even work with couples, and Tommy, for all that he can be quiet, has an exhibitionist streak a mile wide, so Adam wouldn't even have to worry about keeping it up for some hairy muscle man a producer thought was a good match for a theater queen.

What he's saying is that it all sounds pretty ideal. But he's not stupid, so after the matinee Wednesday Adam corners Lucian in their dressing room.

"Do the bosses know about that film you did for Summertime?"

"I did three, actually," Lucian corrects him. "And hell yeah they do. I'm pretty sure that's how I got this gig to begin with."

Their show is a crazy, fucked-up, steampunk musical about Holmes and Watson being gay for each other and solving the case of Jack the Ripper--don't even ask (the playwright still can't believe the thing made it to the stage, never mind Broadway; it's _tapped into the zeitgeist_ or something)--but Adam's still surprised they would cast the part of Jack based on cocksmanship.

"Seriously," Lucian says, picking up on Adam's doubt. "It was like the casting couch twice removed or something. Brent and Hardigan didn't want to know about my run in Rent, or singing backup for Bruno Mars on Leno. They just kept saying, 'So I saw you in _Lucian and Dominic_ and _Lucian and Eddy: Splashdown_. What was it like, were you having as much fun as it looked,' blah blah blah."

"I thought you said three movies?"

"The first one was a threesome with two chicks. I'm pretty sure they're both the type to avoid pussy like it's toxic."

Adam had gotten that impression too, actually, so he gets to his point. "So it isn't going to get me fired if I do a movie for them?"

"Nah," Lucian says. "Might even get you a promotion. Nicholas will _kill_ you if you take Sherlock from him, though, so be careful."

Adam doesn't want Sherlock. Nicholas has to get naked on stage and roll around with the whiniest man in New York on a bed made of giant gears. He'll keep Lestrade, thanks. "Cool," Adam says.

When he brings it up to Tommy, he starts with, "You know how dad got us that Flip when we moved here, as like, a New York-warming present?"

And Tommy's maybe psychic or something because he says, "Are we finally making a sex tape? I thought you'd never ask."

Or maybe not psychic, but it might explain why Adam has found the camera a few times in the drawer with the condoms instead of in the hall table where he thought he'd left it. He and Tommy need to have a talk at some point about subtlety and how if Adam isn't getting it, the trick is to be less subtle. But first Adam says, "I thought maybe we could do audition tapes for Summertime."

Which is totally not subtle, and makes Tommy say, "Like Summertime Studios? Are you fucking kidding? You want to do _actual_ pornos?"

Adam can't tell if it's surprise or refusal in Tommy's voice. "Yes, no, and yes?" he says.

"Like with professional camera guys and good lighting and HD and shit."

Adam's pretty sure that's excitement. "Uh huh."

"You won't lose your job, though, right? Or does the porn pay better? Fuck it. I don't care. Let's do it."

Adam loves Tommy a lot.

He still loves him twenty minutes later, even though Tommy's totally pointing the camera at Adam's face. "I'm pretty sure they care about my dick, here."

"Whatever. I can see your dick, too. But you give good face. The guys at Summertime seem like they care about that stuff."

Okay, Adam _really_ loves Tommy. "I really love you," he says.

"I know. Now stop talking. This shit records sound, too."

Adam laughs and starts over.

 

Apparently the guys at Summertime see something they like, because they call Adam and Tommy in for an interview. Adam was all ready to take his pants off, despite having heard they were different, but they really do just want to talk. Get to know them a little and find out what they want to do for Summertime. They also mention a really attractive number when the subject of monetary compensation comes up. Whatever they're doing clearly makes good business sense as well as being a whole lot less sleazy than the outfits Adam had been considering in LA. They find a spot in their calendar three Mondays hence, and Adam and Tommy take it.

 

In the meantime they practice--both with the Flip set up on top of the dresser aimed roughly at the bed and without--and they argue about whether it's hotter for Adam to fuck Tommy's face while Tommy's on his knees on the floor or on his back on the bed (and decide they're both right and they should just see what seems to fit on the day), and they get excited about having a real, actual DVD of themselves, because they both like fooling around while watching porn, and they figure it's got to be even better when the porn is them.

Adam is ready is what he's saying. So fucking ready. So it's a total shock that when it comes time to actually make the movie, he's hit with an attack of nerves. It's been--holy shit--fifteen months, to the day, actually, since he walked into a recording studio to do some session work and nearly brained himself tripping on his own feet when he saw this tiny boy, bleached hair all tumbled-out-of-bed mussed, hunched over an acoustic guitar which looked giant in his hands, caressing it protectively like one of the other musicians milling around might snatch it away from him at any moment. His hair fell over his face in a way that Adam knew from experience probably made him feel invisible, but Adam could still see the sharp angles of his jaw, the smudge of last night's eyeliner around his eyes, and the tempting bow of his lips.

That day Adam had only gotten as far as buying Tommy a drink and hearing all about how heartbreaking it was when his girlfriend dumped him for the drummer in his last band. But the next day he managed to get his phone number. And it's been almost thirteen months since Tommy pushed Adam down on the couch grumbling, "I'm not as fucking straight as you think I am," and sucked on his tongue until Adam believed him. They've had a lot of sex since then. And, like, moved across the country together and shit. So it's probably a little bit ridiculous for Adam to be nervous taking off Tommy's shirt.

"Still rolling," says a voice from across the room, and Adam's fingers twitch on the hem of Tommy's tee, but he can't actually lift his arms.

He's a fucking actor. He's not only used to having hundreds of eyes on him, he loves it. He lives for it. And this isn't even his first time in front of a camera. Maybe it's seeing that lens over Tommy's shoulder. Tommy is _his_. The Adam that goes on stage is giving something different to his audience than what Tommy gets to see. No one else gets that Adam. This was a really horrible idea.

But, "I've always wanted to fuck Adam Lambert, Broadway Star," Tommy whispers, like he can read the reason for Adam's hesitation on his face or something. Hell. He probably can.

"I've always wanted to fuck Tommy Joe Ratliff, Rock Star," Adam whispers back.

"So fuck me already," Tommy says, louder this time--loud enough for the boom hanging over their heads to pick up.

Just like that, this is a great idea again, and Tommy's shirt is up over his head.

 

And it really was a great idea, though they had no idea how great until a week later when they get a professionally packaged DVD in the mail. A perk of their contract--everyone else has to watch the movie on Summertime's website unless it's picked for one of their _Best of the Best_ DVDs that come out a couple times a year. Adam is appreciative of the timing and even takes a minute to wonder if the guys planned it so it would arrive on a Monday, knowing Adam wouldn't want to have to go off to work.

On Adam's day off, Tommy's at rehearsal from eleven to three, a schedule that ensures they both have at least a couple of hours of alone time each week, a good thing, though Adam needs much less than Tommy. Tommy actually gets excited about having a boyfriend who works until midnight six nights out of seven, so he can watch three hours of MASH reruns at a time or whatever it is he does that leads to red wine rings on the glass coffee table and a dent in the center cushion of the sofa. It would drive Adam insane to have Tommy gone so often, but he does like the occasional afternoon to spend an hour on the phone with a friend he hasn't seen in months, or finish in one delicious sitting a novel he's spent the week reading in bits and snatches.

Today Adam washes the sheets--it's always more fun getting clean sheets dirty--and runs some errands. He usually feels invisible on the streets of New York, much more than he ever did in LA where even the people who aren't looking are checking to make sure you aren't hotter or thinner or more famous--but today he has a creeping feeling that everyone knows he's going to spend the afternoon watching himself fuck his boyfriend while he fucks his boyfriend. He wonders if the vid is up on Summertime's website yet. It's possible the hot guy eyeing him up while he grabs lube in Duane Reade actually _does_ know. His look is a little more pointed than the usual _nice package, hope you have fun with that Gun Oil_ glance.

Then Adam has to adjust himself in his jeans when it becomes obvious that he doesn't exactly mind the thought of pretty boys in the drug store knowing for real what his junk looks like. Even the clerk who's a hundred and three if she's a day and looks at Adam's groin like she's had better can't put him off his good mood. It's quarter to three when he rounds the top of the fourth-floor stairs, which gives him about half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes to set the scene.

Aiming for Parisian love nest, Adam ends up a little closer to fortune-teller's parlour, but with the candles, and the lamps draped in scarves, the nibbles, and the red wine left to breathe, it looks like date night, and that's the important part.

"Well, hey," Tommy says when he gets home. "Did our movie come?"

"Maybe," Adam answers.

They end up abandoning the wine and nibbles--though Adam does pause long enough to blow out the candles in the living room after the near miss they had a few months ago where they ended up too fucked out to want dinner--when Tommy's got Adam by the wrist, dragging him through to the bedroom before Adam's even finished his one-word answer. He's practically bouncing.

"Is it good? What's it look like? Are you hot fucking me?"

Adam is laughing, trying to get Tommy's clothes off while he wriggles around like a puppy who's just been given a treat. "I didn't watch it yet. I waited for you," he says, flinching as Tommy nearly punches him in the nuts trying to undo his button fly.

"Naked now," Tommy urges, like Adam isn't moving as fast as he can.

He clearly should have skipped the wine and just stripped and waited on the bed, remote control in his hand. He'll remember that for next time.

"Next time get naked and fucking call me. I'll come right home." Tommy's finally wrestled his way out of his jeans and shoes, and he flings himself on the bed.

"We haven't even watched it yet, and there's gonna be a next time?"

Tommy flips him off with both hands. "You know it's gonna be hot. Don't even."

"Turn the TV on, then," Adam says, gesturing at the remotes on the bedside table as he pulls his shirt off one-handed. Tommy scrambles to obey.

It opens on a title card, which gives Adam enough time to get up on the bed, situated against the headboard, with Tommy between his spread legs leaning back against his chest. Tommy wriggles more, in excitement or getting comfortable or what Adam's not sure, but he's not complaining about the pressure on his dick. When the title fades to their scene, Tommy settles down.

It's weird to see how much the set looks like a bedroom on film. The false wall with a lightbox and a curtain actually looks like a window, and it seems much cozier when you can't see that there's no ceiling. The sheets were pretty nice and they look good in HD. Which, now Adam thinks about it, is probably why they were nice. Cheap-ass sheets probably show with that many pixels.

"Here we come," Tommy says, clicking the volume a little higher before throwing the remote to the side and grabbing Adam's legs. "Shh."

Adam wasn't saying anything, so he nips Tommy's ear and slides his hands down Tommy's stomach toward his dick. "Shh yourself," he says when Tommy moans softly at the feel of Adam's hands. He doesn't mean a word of it. Tommy moaning is his favorite sound.

All Adam's hesitation has been edited out and it starts with Tommy's, "So fuck me then." They watch while their on-screen selves undress and get in bed.

"Porn is so much better when they don't try to give it some stupid story," Tommy says. "Not that I wouldn't want you to fuck me if you turned up at my door to fix my dishwasher or whatever." He squeezes Adam's legs affectionately, shifting his hips under Adam's touch like he wants him to keep going, get to his dick already.

On screen, Tommy's on his back, Adam over him on elbows and knees, one hand tangled in Tommy's hair, the other resting on his throat. Adam can feel the echo of Tommy's pulse under his thumb, and reverses direction with his left hand, moving it up to cup Tommy's neck while he uses his right to press Tommy's cock up against his belly.

"How hot would it be if we could fuck them?" Tommy points at the screen where Adam is rubbing his cock between the cheeks of Tommy's ass.

Chuckling, Adam says, "Um, we can?"

"No. I mean like two of you and two of me. Oh. God. It would be so hot to watch you suck your own dick."

Adam barks a laugh at that and tickles under Tommy's ribs--his standard retribution when Tommy is being ridiculous--but then he thinks about it, and, wow, that would be amazing. He gives really good head and he really likes blow jobs, and his boyfriend is a fucking genius. Tommy senses the minute the awesome hits him, and says, "Right? Don't tell me you wouldn't love that."

"Watch the damn movie," Adam says, and sticks his tongue in Tommy's ear. He knows too much already without Adam confirming he's always right.

Ducking away from the wet willie, Tommy says, "Oooh, yeah. I like this part." He grabs Adam's hand and puts it back on his dick, curling Adam's fingers around pointedly. "Where you slide in and I can't stay still it feels so good."

Adam likes this part too. "Yeah it does, baby," he says, jacking Tommy slow and firm. The night he and Tommy got together for the first time, they made out for hours and then Adam held him like this while they watched re-runs of True Blood, and jerked him off, starting and stopping and not letting him come until the cliffhanger of the second episode. It's been Adam's favorite way to give Tommy a hand job ever since.

Tipping his head back for a moment, Tommy steals a kiss off Adam's jaw then turns back to the screen. "My tatts look kind of amazing with that lighting." His voice is steady even while he's arching back into Adam's hold, fucking up into his fist.

"Uh huh," Adam agrees, though his eyes are glued to where his cock is entering Tommy's body, stretching him open; his mind is busy wondering if he can reach the lube from here without making Tommy move. He really should have thought this through better. No point in buying the stuff and then leaving it out of reach.

"Fuck, love watching you make me take it. Your fucking hips. Look how deep you're getting."

Adam is absolutely looking. His dick is so hot and hard trapped between their bodies, and he wants to be inside. He's still jerking Tommy's dick, his hips rolling unconsciously in time with his thrusts on the screen.

"So you going to fuck me or what?" Tommy's left hand hooks over Adam's shoulder to give him leverage to pull up, get his right hand between them, squeeze the head of Adam's cock. "Sit me right down on that big dick of yours, make me come so hard I can't move?"

Fuck out of reach, Adam leans Tommy forward with a hand between his shoulder blades, and twists around to reach the bedside table. He did at least remember to take the plastic seal off before he put it away so he can get himself a handful while he's sitting up again.

"Yeah, yeah," Tommy breathes, getting his knees underneath himself, straddling Adam's thighs. They've done this on the chair in the living room, but in bed, Tommy's always faced Adam while riding him, and Adam's always been lying down. Tommy doesn't seem intimidated by logistics, though, balancing on his knees and one hand while he swipes two fingers through the lube on Adam's palm, fingering himself while Adam gets his dick wet.

"I can--" Adam says, but Tommy interrupts: "No, ready now. Want you in me before we come."

It takes a second for Adam to remember the video, and he wonders why Tommy thinks they're gonna shoot before they start, but then movement catches his eye and he looks up in time to see himself flipping Tommy over onto his stomach, pushing his legs up so his ass is in the air and he can shove back inside.

"C'mon, c'mon, get in me." Tommy's grappling in Adam's lap, trying to get hold of his dick, line it up without taking his eyes off the TV screen. Adam helps him out, wrapping an arm around his waist to keep him still, lower him down on Adam's cock. It's slippery slick, and Tommy's hole is tight and tiny, so Adam gets his fingers up by the head, holds it in place while Tommy pushes down.

"Good thing I'm--jesus--a fucking size queen," Tommy breathes, forcing himself open on Adam's dick, one hand on the bed between Adam's knees, the other on Adam's wrist keeping Adam's hand holding his cock steady. On-screen Adam is moving smoothly in and out of Tommy's ass, but he'd spent fifteen minutes before they started shooting fingering him, getting him wet and loose. Now Tommy's relying on willpower and gravity.

Adam wants to push, but he lets Tommy do the work, little twitches of his hips working him down the length of Adam's shaft until he's sitting on Adam's thighs, chest heaving against the flat of Adam's palm. After giving him a second to catch his breath, Adam rolls his hips, just enough to remind Tommy how full up he is and to knock a groan loose.

"You ready?" he asks, even though Tommy's always ready and never _ready_ for the feel of Adam moving inside him.

"Who's the cowboy here?" Tommy grits out, and with fingers still clenched tight around Adam's wrist, he lifts himself up and sinks down again.

"You," Adam gasps as Tommy bottoms out. "Oh fuck." He can only see the corner of the TV over Tommy's shoulder in this position, but he knows what's happening on the screen, and he cares a hell of a lot more about the feel of Tommy riding his cock than having the best view in the house. Besides, he can watch Tommy watching from here, and that's almost better anyway.

As Tommy gets a rhythm going, Adam moves his hands from Tommy's ass and chest to his waist, loving the shift of his abs as he rolls his hips, the feel of Tommy's fingertips digging into Adam's wrists as he rides all the good spots past Adam's cockhead. "Feel so fucking huge like this," Tommy says, grinding down against Adam's hips. "You gonna help a guy out, though? Horses move when their cowboy's riding them."

Adam bites the curve of Tommy's shoulder blade, trying not to laugh, but he does rock his hips up the next time Tommy comes down, and moves his hand back to Tommy's dick. He has almost no leverage in this position, but apparently that's enough because Tommy swears, speeds up, his hands clamping onto Adam's thighs so his legs aren't doing all the work. That hampers Adam's ability to move, but he does his best, using his glutes to push in deeper every time Tommy rocks back into him, lube-slick hand a tight cuff on Tommy's dick.

He can't tell at first if the sound of Tommy coming is on the screen or in the room, but there's a delay before the Tommy in his arms arches back, before jizz bubbles warm over Adam's fingers, and that answers his question. "C'mon," Tommy says. "No money shot." He's nearly dead weight in Adam's lap, legs post-orgasm jelly, but he's still trying to move on Adam's dick, flutter of muscles and twitching hips. Adam wants more friction, wants to fuck Tommy loose and pliant, but he's close enough he thinks he can make it like this, without lifting Tommy off his dick and changing position.

"You good?" Adam asks, moving his hands to Tommy's hips, rocking him up and back, hoping he's not so sensitive Adam's hurting him.

"Good," Tommy says, voice only a little shaky. "So fucking dirty watching you come all over my back, knowing you're gonna come up inside me, get me all wet up where no one can see."

"Gnah," Adam says, pressing back hard on the headboard so he can fuck his hips up.

"That's it, baby. Fill me up. Come on." Tommy's working harder now, panting, pushing up high enough that he can slam back down.

Adam comes on a whine high in his throat, the sound drowned out by Tommy chanting, "Fuck, c'mon, fuck," and the menu music on the DVD.

 

Once Adam's finally loosened his grip on Tommy's hips, Tommy crawls off his lap, murmuring to himself, "God that's a lot of work." Then louder, "Better not have any plans to make me leave the apartment tomorrow. Not sure I'll be able to get up the stairs again."

"If I have my way you won't even get out of bed." Adam's a sticky mess and he really should get up and get a wash cloth, but he's just going to shuffle down and hold onto his porn-star boyfriend for a little while. Maybe without the porn-movie soundtrack, though. "You have the remote?"

Tommy's totally on it, groping behind his head, clicking off the TV before shoving the remote onto the floor. "So this tropical vacation," he says, cuddling close, dropping kisses on Adam's chest.

"Mmm hmm?" Tommy got distracted rubbing his nose on Adam's nipple and needs prompting.

"There's gonna be a DVD player in the bedroom, right?"

Adam's pretty sure they can make that happen.


End file.
